With a UK tour with Marie coming up, Donny Osmond has proved himself a master
of reinvention

Donny Osmond – yes, the Donny Osmond – is staring at me in polite bewilderment. His arm is outstretched mid-air, his big brown Bambi eyes wide with alarm. “Talk to the hand, Donny!” I cry, raising a palm at him, my eyes firmly trained on my phone. “I’ll be with you in a moment, once I’ve… nrrgh… texted my sisters to… grrgh… remind them that I swore one day, one day I would be hanging with Donny Osmond in his hotel room. And now I am! Ha!”

Right, back to you, Donny. I turn and, despite having promised myself I would be cool and nonchalant, I am so overcome by the sight of the first dreamboat I ever loved that I burst into a snatch of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, which he famously aced on stage and in film.

“Ah, so you are an Andrew Lloyd Webber fan,” says Osmond, 54, with small-talk courteousness. “No, I am a Donny Osmond fan!” I shriek. “I’ve always loved you, Donny. I’ve always been there for you…”

“No you haven’t!” he responds, equally fired up. “You, and the rest of them. You all abandoned me!

“I was washed up by the age of 21. Can you imagine how that felt? I spent years trying to establish myself as an artist in my own right – and when I finally released a record, Michael Jackson said my name was so toxic I should do it anonymously, so I did. Then when it was a hit, and people found out that the Mystery Artist was me, they were all calling the radio station claiming they’d always been there for me. And It Was A Lie!”

Yikes, Donny, don’t take it so personally. Although coming from Michael Jackson, of all people, I have to say “toxic” is a bit harsh.

Donny’s diatribe, let it be stated for the record, is delivered in tones of mock outrage. At least it’s mock these days; there was a time when he suffered something of humour bypass about the whole Puppy Love thing and comments about his megawhite teeth, which, incidentally, don’t look in the least bit astonishing now that every X Factor wannabe has them.

But today he is all twinkly and every bit as handsome as he looked in my sisters’ copies of Jackie 35-odd years ago. Tanned and compact, he is soulful and charming and yes, ladies, he smells lovely.

“Right,” I begin, forcefully. “Donny, I know you are a happily married man and a devout Mormon, but will you still flirt with me?”

“Absolutely!” he cries, and pats the sofa next to him, possibly to indicate that I am to sit beside, rather than on, him. Wise move.

You see, Donny is a pro. Donny understands. He understands that I am a woman of a certain age meeting my childhood heart-throb, so today isn’t about him, it’s about me.

And although he’s here to talk about his forthcoming UK concert with his sister Marie, he generously lets me have my moment. Even when I suggest he ditch the blonde PR woman-cum-minder in the corner (who is probably an Israeli-trained human killing machine), and slope off to the bar with me for a naughty Diet Coke (Mormons don’t do stimulants), he laughs and agrees, although – and this only occurs to me much later – he somehow never quite gets around to grabbing his coat.

Still, he is the good sport we all recognise from The Donny and Marie Show, with his boom-tish! quips and finely judged hamminess. He sings to me, he emotes, he remembers my first name and uses it, a lot, to demonstrate his sincerity.

“You know, Judith, there was a time when it wasn’t cool to say you liked Donny Osmond,” he says, mournfully. “My wife had a picture of me on her bedroom door, but it wasn’t on the front of the door, where everyone could see it. No, it was on the back, so only she could see it, once the door was closed.

“And do you know who was on the front of the door, Judith?”

I think I do but please, Donny, say it ain’t so.

“Yes, it was David Cassidy.”

But she doesn’t still have David Cassidy’s picture up there? I mean, Donny, that would be really weird.

“Ha ha, no. She has me. I don’t want to sound corny, but my wife Debbie is the perfect woman, she…”

“Whatever, Donny. Have you had work done? You look so fresh, it’s like you were vacuum-packed in 1980.”

“Clean living! See, it looks like the Mormons were right! Ha ha! I did have Botox once but I hated the way it froze my forehead, I also use a product called Protandim, which slows the ageing process and is so amazing I actually contacted the company and asked if I could endorse it.”

Hmm. Sounds too good to be true. Show me behind your ears, Donny! I want to check for stitch marks. And Donny leans towards me and does just that.

He is solicitous to a fault; and how do I repay him? With the journalistic equivalent of Tourette’s, shouting out random non sequiturs.

“When I was little, my sister would make me cry by telling me that she was going to cut off all my hair and make me marry Wayne Osmond,” I tell him, misting over with bittersweet nostalgia.

“That’s ironic,” he says with a toothsome grin. “Because Wayne hasn’t got any hair now either.”

At another point I find myself (because it’s all about me, remember?) dolefully observing that, despite my best efforts, I’ve lost my dignity.

“Donny,” I say. “I’ve lost my dignity.”

“I see that. Perhaps you should look down the side of the sofa for it?” he deadpans with expert comic timing. And so, while I rootle around the cushions, it offers the ideal opportunity for a quick recap of Osmondmania.

The Osmonds, Mormons from Salt Lake City, where Donny still lives, burst on to the British music scene in 1971. They were Alan, Wayne, Merrill, Jay and later Donny and Jimmy – Marie never sang with them but hit the charts at the tender age of 13 with Paper Roses, and duetted later with Donny.

The group’s hits included Crazy Horses, One Bad Apple and Love me for a Reason, and although popular in the US, in the UK they – most notably Donny – achieved superstar status. Mobbed by screaming fans wherever they played, they caught the teenybopper wave and rode it all the way up the beach, selling more than 100 million records. But then the tide went out.

In 1976, “Donny & Marie” was launched, amid much fanfare. But with record sales diminishing, Osmondmania had run its course and by the end of the decade, it was all over.

“That was tough,” which is mild-mannered Donny-speak for “nightmarish”. “I’d been performing since I was five, I didn’t know anything else.”

Married aged 20, he went on to have five sons and will shortly welcome his sixth grandchild into the world. Despite the domestic contentment, he desperately longed for the buzz of performing, but nobody would take him seriously, hence his 1989 Mystery Artist release.

Thereafter, the offers started rolling in; musical theatre, television presenting, an ongoing residency in Vegas with his sister, a Sin City setting that seems slightly at odds with his faith.

“I’m a very religious person, but not a zealot,” he says, reasonably. His website Donny.com is a lot more hardline. The “My Beliefs” page (not something you’ll find on Justin Bieber’s site) features a lot of stern Old Testament quotations about the evils of fornication, and Book of Mormon references to the abominations of whoredom.

It’s hard to square this with his knockabout affability – humorousness is rarely next to godliness. But survival in showbusiness – and with a current radio show, 60 albums under his belt, concert tours, and a recent US Dancing With the Stars trophy, he is most definitely a survivor – is all about reinvention, reading the audience and giving them what they want.

He’s been in talks with Andrew Lloyd Webber about various projects and has agreed to play the Phantom in The Phantom of the Opera at some point in the future. Isn’t he tempted by Jesus Christ Superstar, which is due for a revival?

“I’d love to play Judas,” he says, unexpectedly. “The critics would maul me if I played Jesus. Donny Osmond as Judas! I imagine it!”

I’m just trying to visualise Donny on the dark side when his minder gently intervenes. But before I go, I seize a chance to humiliate myself a little more.

“I know I’m a professional journalist, but can I have a picture with you, on my iPhone, please Donny? As proof for my sisters.”

Needless to say, he obliges. In fact, he doesn’t just oblige, he suddenly takes me in his arms and flings me backwards crying “This’ll show your sisters!”

And with that, I float off home, slightly intoxicated by the revelation that not all idols have feet of clay.

The Donny & Marie LIVE! tour starts on January 20 at the O2 Arena and ends on February 2 at the Liverpool Echo Arena; www.kililive.com, 08448718803